


Kicked in the Teeth Again

by Error401



Series: In and Out [10]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Hurt, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Shane's back, no zombies, oops i did it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error401/pseuds/Error401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn’s mind went blank. He reacted on instinct. He angled his shoulder and caught Shane in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Using his advantage of momentum, he rushed forward, trying to get back under the lights so his coworkers in the pizza restaurant would see him. </p><p>But Shane was a trained police officer who was used to having suspects fight back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kicked in the Teeth Again

It was because he was on the phone with Daryl after leaving work, asking if Daryl wanted Glenn to swing by his house with an extra pizza, that he didn’t notice someone approaching him until it was too late. He was laughing at some comment Daryl made about not wanting to eat squirrel again when he was pushed forward, his phone flying out of his hand as he hit the ground hard on his hands and knees, skinning them against the pavement. 

“You look a little unsteady, boy,” came the familiar sickly-sweet drawl.

Glenn quickly scrambled to his feet, wiping his bloody hands on the thighs of his jeans, heart hammering a mile a minute. “Look, just leave me alone,” he said, proud at the way he managed to keep his voice level. “I swear I’ll report you if you touch me again!”

“Someone’s feelin’ brave tonight,” Shane smiled, only it was the ugliest smile Glenn could ever remember anyone smiling. “You think they’ll take the word a’ some punk over me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Glenn said, internally shaking in his boots. “You’ve probably done this before, haven’t you? You have an M.O. You don’t think that’ll look suspicious to internal affairs? All those brutality complaints that I have no doubt you’ve gotten?”

Shane’s frowned, eyebrows furrowing, before he ran a hand through his curly hair and laughed. Actually laughed. Glenn wasn’t sure what to make of that, other than to take a step back, increase their distance. “What do you think this is, kid? Some kinda’ movie? The force protects its own.” Noticing Glenn’s step back, he took a step forward. 

Glenn clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as he set his legs shoulder-length apart. He might not be able to run away, but he wasn’t going to let this happen again. “What the hell do you want from me?” he asked desperately. 

“I already said,” Shane said gently. “I ain’t got no business with you, personally. Just that you happen to be associatin’ with certain unsavory types.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Glenn said, playing dumb. 

“I seem to recall hearin’ a certain phone conversation not two minutes ago that contradicts that story,” Shane grinned, cracking his knuckles loudly in front of him. 

Glenn swallowed. He’d just been…standing there…listening? Was this a normal occurrence? Did he just fucking follow him around everywhere, invade his privacy? His fists shook as he raised them, but he still did, exactly like he and Daryl had practiced. “I’m l-leaving.”

“Nah,” Shane said. “You stayin’.” He stepped closer. Hands out.

Glenn’s mind went blank. He reacted on instinct. He angled his shoulder and caught Shane in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Using his advantage of momentum, he rushed forward, trying to get back under the lights so his coworkers in the pizza restaurant would see him. But Shane was a trained police officer who was used to having suspects fight back.

He recovered like lightning and was on Glenn in a matter of seconds, tackling him into the dirt. He pushed Glenn’s head into the ground, and Glenn had no idea what he was doing until his wrists were yanked behind him, cold metal clamping around them like vices, painfully tight. He was disoriented, and everything hurt, even more so than before. The pain was the only thing keeping him grounded and pulling him from the edge of full-fledged panic. 

“Fuckin’ little—“ Shane muttered, blessedly climbing off of him. Glenn didn’t know what he would do if Shane had straddled him for one more second. His appreciation was short-lived as Shane lashed out with his boot, kicking him in his unprotected side and causing him to curl up, coughing. “Piece a’ shit.”

Glenn couldn’t say anything, the pronounced pain causing him to flash back to his first attack by the thugs. Why did everything always have to hurt?

He gasped as he was pulled bodily from the ground, stumbling over his own feet as he had to hunch over from his aching stomach. When Shane pulled him up, he felt nothing but bruising grip and fear. It was never that way with Daryl. No matter how much stronger Daryl was than Glenn, he never used it to try and dominate him. Glenn never realized how easy it would have been for Daryl to cause him pain. 

He was yanked to a stop in front of Shane’s police cruiser, and he couldn’t help but cringe away from it and Shane. Shane’s hands. Why was this happening again? He didn’t understand, couldn’t—Shane pressed a big hand to the back of his head and shoved forward, cracking his skull against the window of the back seat. 

The pain was so bad that he wasn’t sure he even knew his own name at that point. He felt the blood leaking from his temple, his hands, his knees, his forearms where they’d scraped the ground the second time. The bruises where Shane’s hands dug in, the ground hit, the boot kicked. It was all too familiar. 

“Should be more careful,” Shane said, pulling open the door to the backseat and shoving Glenn in face first against the cushions. 

Glenn didn’t know how long he lay there, breathing harshly against the fabric, head pounding. He could barely see, and he was too disoriented to be able to turn over without falling off the seat and potentially hurting himself even more. All he knew was that it hurt, and that it wouldn’t stop, no matter what he did. He felt his eyes welling up against his will. 

The door opened, and he tensed, trying to curl up and protect himself. He’d lost feeling in his hands a while ago, and he tried to flex his fingers, but they flopped uselessly. 

“Fuck,” Daryl said. “Glenn?”

Glenn opened one eye, and then the other, recognizing the voice, tears finally spilling over from relief. “D…” he mouthed, choking up. “Daryl? What…?”

“Fuck,” Daryl cursed again, this time more forcefully. “Hold on.”

Glenn heard footsteps crunching away, and he nearly had a meltdown, but then there were hands on his arms, and the handcuffs were gone. He felt the pressure of Daryl’s hands rubbing his own, trying to get some blood flow back into them, and finally the painful prickling as they came alive again. 

“C’mon,” Daryl said, helping him sit up. His eyes narrowed sharply at every wince of pain, every held back noise. Carefully, he brushed his fingers along Glenn’s swollen head, his dirty cheek. “That bastard,” he said quietly, murderously. 

“Shane!” Glenn said, looking around wildly. “Where is he? He’s probably coming back soon! We have to—“ 

“Shh,” Daryl said, taking one of Glenn’s hands to keep massaging it. “He’s after my brother,” he said, glancing behind him and into the lot. “He’ll be gone for a while.”

“But…” Glenn said nervously, absently noting the slur in his own words.

“You probably got a concussion,” Daryl said. “Some kinda’ trauma, shock. Anythin’ feel broken? Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” Glenn said. “Think so…” He felt Daryl’s hands guiding him out of the car, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, supporting most of his weight for him. “Thanks,” he said, feeling his head flop onto Daryl’s shoulder. 

“I ain’t a fan of hospitals,” Daryl said. “But maybe I should get used to ‘em, seeing as how you got a room reserved for you.”

“I’m tired,” Glenn said.

“Well you ain’t fuckin’ going to sleep,” Daryl said, shaking him harshly. “Say somethin’.”

“What?” Glenn asked.

“Just somethin’!” Daryl growled, finally dragging Glenn to his truck and getting him into the passenger seat. 

“I like your arms,” Glenn said. Daryl frowned and hurried to the driver’s side, slamming the door shut harshly behind him.

“Well, not what I woulda’ picked, but shit,” Daryl muttered. “What you like about them, chink?”

“They don’t hurt,” Glenn mumbled.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Daryl said, speeding on his way out of the lot. 

“They could hurt, but they don’t,” Glenn said. 

“You took a real knock, didn’t ya?” Daryl said.

“Shane hurts,” Glenn continued. “But you don’t.” He felt his eyes closing, but Daryl’s hand was immediately on his shoulder, nudging him awake again. “Where’d he go?”

“I brought my brother to distract him,” Daryl said, eyeing Glenn and the road in equal amounts. “Merle’ll take any chance he got to mess with him, send him on a wild goose chase. Got the pig to follow him on foot.”

Glenn raised a hand to his head, feeling the egg-sized lump. “You came to save me?”

“The fuck else was I s’posed to do when I hear somethin’ like that over the phone?” Daryl ground out, squeezing the wheel, wishing it was Shane’s throat.

“Thanks,” he said again. “You didn’t have to risk it. Crazy. He’s…crazy.”

“I know,” Daryl said, swerving to get around a slow-moving car. He snorted, looking at Glenn again. “’parantly, so am I.”

“Hurts,” Glenn slurred, hit by a wave of nausea.

“I know,” Daryl frowned. “Hold on, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know it seems repetitive, but I swear, there's a reason. Please trust me. And love me.


End file.
